I Point, He Eats
Dungeon - Castle Decepticon - Helex Dimly lit by energon torches, rows of cells line the walls of this circular room, so that all of the prisoners have an excellent view of the torture chamber in the center. Eerily quiet, the prisoners here learned a long time ago that bargaining, begging, and screaming was a hopeless waste of energon. <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "Ugh. Why do so many Decepticons have such macabre tastes? Even the sophisticated ones, like Scrapper. When I destroy Blurr, I want him *destroyed*... not have his lifeless optics staring out at me from the wall when I'm trying to recharge. That's just creepy." <'Decepticon'> Scorn says, "A shame. It can look nice when tastefully done." <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "I fail to see how "dismembered head" and "tasteful" go together." <'Decepticon'> Blitzwing says, "You're not in the right subgroup." Skullcruncher has arrived. <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "What would be the right subgroup?" <'Decepticon'> Scorn says, "Well, you could have his whole body preserved. Then you can pose him in amusing ways. Or make him hold things." <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "Heh- I suppose I could pose him with a perpetually sad expression for finally having lost- and have his arm holding up all my Olympics trophies. Including the one he (unfortunately) helped me win. The irony would be rather amusing, after all. ...But still... there's something about that I find more unsettling than satisfying." <'Decepticon'> Contrail says, "You could use him as a giant doll." <'Decepticon'> Contrail says, "Try out various paint schemes on him." <'Decepticon'> Contrail says, "Test ideas for new noseart." <'Decepticon'> Scorn says, "Well, if you ever destroy him and keep enough parts in tact, let me know." <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "Heh- some hideous color scheme might be amusing. Perhaps I could leave it as a garish gift for his fellow Autobots? ...Ah, Scorn, I will keep that in mind." <'Decepticon'> Scorn says, "Or maaaybe, if you're daring enough, get his processor replaced with a drone. It'll be like having your own personal slave." <'Decepticon'> Harrow says, "Oooh! I like that idea." <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "Hmmm...actually, ...I do too." <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "I like that idea quite a lot, in fact." <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "Blurr the race star, reduced to Blurr, my office assistant. Yes, I could tune into that." <'Decepticon'> Scorn says, "Excellent. I know some people who can help with that." <'Decepticon'> Contrail says, "You'd have to reshape him into a giant paperclip, though." <'Decepticon'> Harrow says, "Director, how could that /possibly/ be of any use." <'Decepticon'> Contrail says, "Everyone knows that office assistants are giant animate paperclips." <'Decepticon'> Blast Off says, "No, he'd have to stay looking like Blurr. Complete with a look of eternal dismay on his face. It's a deal, Scorn. When I offline him, I'll bring him to you." <'Decepticon'> Scorn says, "Sounds like a deal." Jigsaw can be found standing smack in the center of his cell, glaring out into the center of the room. There are scorch marks on his armor from him presumably trying to claw his way out of the energized barrier. His fingers flex again and again but otherwise, he is motionless. Light footsteps echo down a presumably old circular staircase, followed not far off by the odd shrieks of metal plates scraping along stone. Before long, the originators of these footfalls are made apparent as the ever-immaculate Nebulan businessman, Grax, emerges and strides into the center of the dimly lit room, a giant slathering mechanical alligator licking at his polished leather heels. The moment footsteps are heard, Jigsaw starts up again. His voice far surpasses the volume of any average vocalizer, this much is clear as he curses the Decepticons up and down. "I DEMAND TO BE SET FREE, YOU COWARDS HAVE NO RIGHT TO DETAIN ME, YOU ARE ALL THE SCUM BENEATH CYBERTRON'S CRUST!" Grax runs an index finger along the edge of the torture rack that dominates the center of the room, shaking his head with a slight 'tsk tsk' click of his tongue. "Which one of you cretins bled all over this table and weren't kind enough to clean up after yourself?" Knowing the question to be insultingly rhetorical, none of the prisoners deign a reply. Skullcruncher saunters around the large device once before coming around after Jigsaw's cell, opening his giant snout wide and snapping after the Cybertronian. Grax meanwhile shuts his eyes, squinting hard as Jigsaw's voice booms across the room. Once he's had his tirade, Grax mockingly removes a set of foam inserts from his ears and tosses them at Jigsaw's face as he steps toward the cell. "I'm sorry, what was that? Ha ha, just kidding. I don't care. Raise your voice at me again and my friend here-" Grax pats Skullcruncher on top of the head, like a domesticated pet "-will eat your throat." Empties, true Empties stare blankly at Skullcruncher and Grax as they make their way in. They gaze with listless, vacant optics, either leaning against their cell's wall or sprawled on the ground. Jigsaw remains defiant, leering down at Grax after sparing a glance at the mechalligator and his wicked jaws. Though the pistons in his neck do appear to twitch at the mention of his throat being eaten. "Nebulan... Traitor to your own race," he hisses, voice lowered. "And you," he looks back to the gator. "Reduced to a /pet/? Disgraceful." Grax strokes Skullcruncher on the head, frowning but not offended. "No, not a pet. A /tool/. A very, very deliberate tool." At this, Skullcruncher snaps his jaws shut quickly and the pop that it creates cracks across the room like a lightning strike. "And myself, a traitor? That's awfully presumptuous of you. Nebulos is strong - stronger than ever before. As a result of my actions. Can Cybertron say the same for you? I doubt you have accomplished anything of note to make Cybertron better - quite honestly I have done more than you. Who is the traitor then, do you think?" Grax smiles then, clasping his hands neatly behind his back, looking as professional as always and not weathered at all by Jigsaw's accusations. "Now. You have information that I would like to have. Your options are as follows: you can either tell me what I want to hear, now, and I will see to it that you are released... /OR/ you can make this difficult - either way, I am going to get what I want. I -always- get what I want. The question you must ask yourself is - do you enjoy having arms, legs, speech, sight, hearing, et cetera? How effective do you think you'll be as a leader of your people when you are rendered immobile - can not see - can not hear - can not speak? A useless, inert lump." Grax lifts his hands to fix his tie, demeanor as calm as though he were reading the morning paper. "Which option do you choose?" The 'pop' of Skullcruncher's jaws is enough to startle the Empties out of their stupor. They cringe and shrink away into the corners of their cells. Jigsaw doesn't move. He just watches Grax, a fleshling, a small organic creature, speak as if he is the largest, most fearsome mech in the territory. Though he /does/ have Skullcruncher at his disposal. "I needn't waste energy explaining my accomplishments to you. My sole duty is with my people, and the other neutrals that refuse to take part in the war you and your ilk started. I don't know where Nebulans go when they die, but I hope you perish alongside your pet, burning in the Pits for eternity," he says through his teeth. "You are wasting your time. Release me." Grax sighs, "Very well. Skullcruncher, the door." The mechalligator lifts his snout, vents onto the data panel, and slinks away obediently. The cell deactivates and the door swings open. "You will be released - though only after you give me what I asked for. Until then, enjoy the sensation of being digested alive." Grax snaps his fingers, and Skullcruncher launches himself into the cell, maw opened wide and clamping down on one of Jigsaw's legs. Grax turns his back and walks over to the torture rack in the center of the room, admiring its macabre design as he casually walks around it. "I confess I do not know where Nebulans go when they die, either - though perhaps tonight we'll find out where Cybertronians go when they die. That is, if you fail to cooperate." Blast Off walks into the room as Grax sics Skullcruncher on the hapless prisoner. Normally, the Combaticon wouldn't really care and would simply look disapprovingly on the barbaric scene, shrug indifferently, and then probably be on his way. However, due to certain... personal circumstances ...he has a grudging wish to see the prisoner left alive. And preferably in one piece. Which it looks like he isn't going to be pretty soon. Blast Off would never admit this openly, however. So instead, he stops and stares, asking, "What is the meaning of this? I thought the prisoner was to be left alive for now?" Jigsaw barely as enough time to part his lips. The mechagator's teeth bury into his leg and he quickly loses his footing, clattering to the energon-smeared ground. "GAH!" All he can think to do is claw and scrape at Skullcruncher's snout. "Let GO you filthy- nngh!" He hardly notices Blast Off's entrance, too drawn up in the pain of his main lines snapping. Oddly, he keeps up arm up to guard his neck. Grax scoffs at Blast Off some, a slight scowl creasing his brow as he regards the scene between his pet lizard chomping on the writhing neutral quite nonchalantly. "Please. He is alive. For now. Skullcruncher will not terminate him until I give him permission. " Grax straightens his blazer and looks at the Combaticon indignantly. "I deserve more credit than that, honestly." Blast Off looks down with some disdain at the much smaller organic. "And what have YOU done to deserve that credit from me, I wonder? Why should I trust your observational skills? Are you a medic? Do you know the exact point at which a mechanical life form will cease to function anymore? Even our own kind can have difficulty determining such a thing..." Jigsaw feels his leg begin to sever at the knee, and his howling hitches. "Stop! STOP!" he pleads, clawing uselessly. "I'll tell you what I know, just make him STOP!" Grax looks up at Blast Off with a strained expression, as if to say 'Look, pal, I know what I'm doing'. The Nebulan draws a patient breath and then exhales in an attempt to calm himself. The Combaticon has done more to unnerve him than the neutral crying out for an end to his torture. Grax pinches the bridge of his nose, walking over to Blast Off while he attempts to respond in the most diplomatic, politically-correct way possible. "I know that you are not fond of the binary bonding process between our species - and therefore you are ignorant." He holds up a hand as if to stay the Combaticon from lashing out at him in anger for saying so. "I understand your reservations, but I do suggest that you make at least a glancing attempt at understanding our relationship before you think yourself better." Grax lifts his hand, motioning to the mechanical reptile feasting on Jigsaw, making him out as an example. "In our bond, I know and feel what Skullcruncher feels - and vice versa. Unfortunately, his processing power is limited and for the most part he is incapable of comprehending the knowledge that he posseses. Though - he doesn't need to. I point, he eats. It is a very efficient business model. As you may be able to guess, Skullcruncher has eaten a great deal over time. Through these experiences, I understand Cybertronian anatomy more than most of your medical staff. I know all too well at what point you tin cans cave in." Grax raps his knuckles along Blast Off's leg. "This Neutral is no different." Grax snaps his fingers and Skullcruncher immediately begins to spit Jigsaw back out, sans one leg to the hip. Grax turns to the prisoner, politely smiling. "I'm listening." Jigsaw shuffles back against the cell's wall, venting heavily and trailing energon from his hip. He pauses, expression one of fear. "I... I know that..." He suddenly smirks and offers up the Cybertronian equivalent of the bird with both hands. "I know that you can suck my skidplate. RED RESONANCE SHALL NOT BREAK! I will DIE for my brethren, unlike the likes of you shameful fraggers who cringe and cower and leave your comrades to bleed out on the battlefield! Decepticon trash! WASTE OF ENERGON! Organic FILTH!" Blast Off draws up in a huff as soon as Grax calls him "ignorant". He is correct to assume it angers the elitist Combaticon, and he almost does swat at the arrogant fool right then and there. But he holds his temper long enough to let the Nebulan finish his speech. It's the "civilized" thing to do, after all. But his purple-gray optics flash as he does so. Finally, as Grax raps knuckles against his leg, the Combaticon leans down to tower over the Nebulan threateningly. "Do that again and I will return the favor, organic. A lot less gently, however." As Jigsaw suddenly screams out defiance, the Combaticon stares at the prisoner a moment, then glares back at Grax, still looming over him as much as possible. "Ah, well, that worked PERFECTLY, didn't it now?" He ask sarcastically. Grax rolls his eyes, and motions for Skullcruncher to continue. The lizard does so, gobbling up Jigsaw's other leg and chewing it in a wickedly deliberate manner, rending steel plates from the more sensitive inner workings as he wraps his jaws around the limb. Grax's brow piques as Blast Off attempts to threaten and posture, though it rolls off his back as easily as water on a duck. Skullcruncher can just as easily fit the both of them in his mouth - and in fact would probably try to do so if Grax were not here to prevent it. The Nebulan smiles fiendishly at the Combaticon. "I have to point out that you did not argue my point, Blast Off." He looks back over to his partner and the neutral, then too his expensive-looking watch. "Give it time, my friend." Jigsaw tries to scramble away but there's not a lot of room in that cell. The Empties have returned to their cell barriers to peer almost hungrily at the carnage taking place. Some begin to pound on the energized forcefields, sending sparks in every direction. Jigsaw continuously tries to push away Skullcruncher's blunt nose but there's no budging it. Genuine agony fuels his screams, and he grows more and more weary as energon fills the mechalligator's tremendous maw. "Stah'... st'..." Blast Off 's vents hiss slightly, but... "It is POSSIBLE you might have a point... potentially. But this prisoner is here because of a mission *I* headed, and I will not allow this job to be marred by some organic's accident. And I cannot believe you have full, 100 percent control of a brute like THAT." He points as Skullcruncher proceeds to chew on Jigsaw again. "I FORM part of a brute, after all. There is a certain point they... just don't... listen sometimes." The Combaticon continues to hover over Grax- not quite as overtly before, but he isn't concerned about Skullcruncher. Whether or not he should be... the agile shuttleformer is fully confident in his ability to dodge attacks, after all. He looks around with distaste as the other prisoners and the whole, rather unsavory scene before him. Then he looks at Jigsaw with some disgust, too, spitting out, "And YOU- just stop being a stubborn idiot and tell them what they want to know. Are you masochistic or something?" Grax snaps his fingers and Skullcruncher lifts Jigsaw up bodily and carries him out of the cell and to the center of the room like a well-trained animal. Grax looks at Blast Off pointedly as if to prove a point, but says nothing to invite another debate. The lizard in turn spits the neutral into the chair there and rearranges him appropriately with his snout. Grax walks over the devlish machine and accesses a terminal, powering the device. The chair turns into a sadistic machine with a chilling whine, clamping Jigsaw in place as steel bands lock down on each limb and his throat. A silver dish rotates up on a pivoting arm and presses itself firmly against the wound left by Skullcruncher removing a leg. The plate begins to glow red as it is heated, and the metals pressed against it begin to melt into each other, cauterizing the injury. Grax watches with detached emotion, ignoring the other prisoners for they have nothing that he may benefit from. Skullcruncher, meanwhile, curls up into a corner and chews on Jigsaw's leg like a dog would a bone. At this, Grax actually laughs, regarding Blast Off now even though he had avoided doing so earlier. "I never said he was a brute. You give him too much credit, Combaticon." Grax paces back to Jigsaw, watching the burned limb intently, noting the energon-letting to be all but stopped. "I suggest you heed Captain Blast Off's demands, Cybertronian, or next it will be an arm. You will look awfully comical, what with one right leg and one left arm." Jigsaw struggles for all he's worth, swiping weakly at Skullcruncher as he drops him in the chair. There he thrashes until that hot disc presses against his wound. It's everything he can do to keep himself together as abject pain lights up his sensor grid. It /must/ stop. A few lengthy seconds of this and he's left begging for it to cease. It sounds pretty real this time. "STOP!" He tilts his head back, optics dimming. "Forgive me Primus. T-Treadgrip and his settlement are h-heading to Nova Cronum," he chokes up sourly. "Through Thunderhead P-Pass, in six megacycles. Spokes and her caravan are headed to the settlement in the Manganese mount... mountains, through Kowentide forest. I-I don't know when. Turn the machine off!" Blast Off is beginning to feel a little ill. The "high society" mech is not really into torture... he leaves that for Vortex. Cold? Yes. Sadistic? Not so much. And looking at all the spurting body fluids and ripped off limbs are making his circuits feel queasy. He appears to grimace under the faceplate as he regards Grax. "Fine, you have a trained circus robo-dog, then. Very nice for you. You enjoy commanding our kind around, eh? I will remember that." Then Jigsaw appears to crack- in more ways than one. Blast Off shakes his head in disgust at the whole scene and everyone involved in it. "There. Release him before he really DOES die." Grax sighs again at Blast Off, shaking his head. "Must you make everything so personal? I am not ordering your kind around. Merely one. And can't you see how much better I make him?" Grax lifts a hand to regard Jigsaw as the neutral spits the goods on everything he knows. "My point, Captain. Do you think Skullcruncher would have been able to get this mech to talk on his own? No. He'd be half liquid waste in that dragon's fuel pump by now, no doubt." Grax steps back up to the terminal, pressing his hand to it. The rack immediately powers down, reconfigures, and spills Jigsaw out onto the floor in a most unceremonious fashion. "As you wish, Combaticon." Grax walks over to the neutral piled up on the floor, crouching down to regard Jigsaw though he only is still about as big as the mech's head. Grax reaches out and dabs some energon away from Jigsaw's mouth with the pocket square he draws out from the pocket on his jacket. "You should have went with the first option, friend. But thank you for your cooperation, however belated it was." Grax stands and snaps his fingers, and Skullcruncher lazily rolls to all fours and follows him along, still chewing on Jigsaw's leg. The Decepticon, to add insult to injury, knocks Jigsaw in the head with his own limb as he saunters by. "He is yours do with what you wish, Captain. My work here is done." Grax tosses his pocket square to the floor, straightens his suit, and leaves the room. Jigsaw topples onto the ground and is left sprawled on his front in a growing pool of energon. He barely notices Grax dab his handkerchief, a bit too drawn up in residual pain and, of course, the deep shame of ratting out his allies. He winces when he's knocked with his own damn foot, and musters enough energy to glower after the mechalligator. Skullcruncher whispers: I told you - I /always/ get what I want. Blast Off watches Grax and Skullcruncher finish up, still looking as if he smells something positively revolting as he does so. And given this scene, maybe he does. He also doesn't like to admit that Grax actually has a point. The organic is smarter than the Cybertronian he's partnered with, and Blast Off knows this. It doesn't mean he likes the fact, however, since it puts a crimp in his "organics=inferior" attitude. He (unfortunately) feels the same way about Scorponok and his Zarak. Then he realizes Grax is leaving HIM to deal with this mess. "What? Come back here and clean this up!" Unfortunately, the pair seems to have left the room. Still revolted, the Combaticon looks down at the prisoner sprawled before him. "Ugh." He calls on his radio to get some medical gumbies to attend to the prisoner and make sure he doesn't die just yet. Leaning down, he says, "You are an idiot... but you appear to be a lucky idiot. You just better hope your luck doesn't run out." The Combaticon almost taps the mech with his foot, but then decides touching him involves too much dirty work, so he stands there and waits for the gumbies to arrive. Then he can leave- and leave this mess behind him.